Camp Stories. (continued)
It seems to me that nearly all of my hunting experiences end with an interesting
campfire story rather than a success story. It is quite likely that you have heard
some of these stories while sitting around the campfire after a long day of hunting.
My stories are among those that have brought tears to your eyes as you try to visualize
the events. Whether it is the story about me launching arrows over the back or bullets at
the feet of my intended target, or the one about me hitting an unintended object that
was still able to transport me back home they were sure to make you thankful that it
happened to me and not you. In fact even my successes have not occurred without a hitch,
like the cow elk that I shot which in reality turned out to be a spike bull.
It was confiscated due to the fact that I had an antlerless tag. But that was all about
to change as I successfully bagged my first archery kill. Or was it?
If you read my last article you know that I was able to bring home a nice whitetail
doe with a beautifully placed shot. I cannot be too proud of that shot since I
missed one just a minute or two before that. We were able to track the deer down
in very short order and get her home without a hitch. It worked out almost exactly
as I had wanted it. We brought the deer safe and sound to the meat locker to get
it processed. I placed my order and with visions of sausage, smoked sticks,
and venison cuts, I patiently waited for when the order to be brought to my home.
That was going to be a little difficult since I live in Colorado and my deer was
processed in Iowa, but through a logistical coordination we were able to get it
figured out. All was set and my dad was preparing to go over to the meat locker
and pick it up. I could almost taste the fruits of my labor. My meat would be
arriving soon as my in-laws traveled to visit us during the Christmas holiday.
Or was it?
As I was arriving home before the Christmas holiday I heard my kids relay some
startling news. As my kids were relaying the information to me in excited tones
I was able to grasp a few words such as “fire,” “meat locker,” and “deer.”
I figured that my kids must have caught a few words of a phone conversation and
tried to decipher what the phone conversation was all about. They can certainly
come up with some crazy stories that way, like this one. At least that was my hope.
As promising as that hope was, it was futile because my fears were later confirmed by,
email, Internet web sites, and a phone call from my dad. I needed three opinions before
I would believe it. All three stated the same thing. My first deer has become an
unidentifiable piece of charred ruble. All is not lost. I still have the memories and
the photographs and I am not the only one who has suffered the same loss or worse.
And my source of income did not burn to the ground. But it continues my seemingly endless
saga of hunting adventures that have turned into the stories that are bringing the
much needed laughter and tears of joy to people around the campfire. Someday, maybe
I will be able to sit around the campfire and listen to these stories and not sense that
tinge of familiarity that comes from listening to your own adventure.